Sanctuary
by GoddessOfTheUnderworld
Summary: The Kings and Queens are once again swept into Narnia, this time to face a dark and clever sorceress. To help them, they ally the realm of MidEvil, but no one knows wether the magic of the queens, the strength of Narnia, or Peter's new love can save them
1. Chapter One: Dreams

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Narnia books, most unfortunatley I do not even have copies of them, nor do I own any fanfics this might resemble. I haven't even read any other Narnia fics, so I don't know what I should avoid.**

**A/N The poem at the beginning was written by me, and it's just describing (kinda) the story.**

**Sanctuary**

_When darkness comes_

_And cloaks us all_

_I'll draw my sword_

_So we will not fall_

_If safety's gone_

_And war won't parry_

_I'll find us_

_A Sanctuary_

_Come my people_

_We don't have to run_

_We'll all be safe_

_When this battle's done_

_Deep inside_

_This country's hold_

_This Sanctuary_

_Is MidEvil's gold_

_**England**_

**Chapter One: Dreams**

Sunlight filtered feebly through the wide, dark curtains in a silent room, falling in a wavering, milky-grey chink across the foot of a navy-blue bedspread. The early-morning sunlight was shifted violently across the blanket as the sleeper kicked again.

The silence of Peter Pevensie's room was broken by the groaning of bedsprings as he thrashed in his bed, muttering wildly and inaudibly, wrenching his blanket from where it was tucked against the wall and unconsciously tossing it around to his other side. The muttering grew louder and small beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, dripping down his temples and into his extremely messy blonde hair. The blankets around him were wrapped so tightly, it seemed unlikely that he would be able to move again for several years.

Then, as suddenly as if someone had prodded him in the side, his muttering stopped and his eyelids flew open. He seemed surprised to find himself in a full body-bind made of blankets, and even more startled to realize he was sweating. Peter, after several moments of wrestling himself from his blankets, stood up and crossed to the east side of the room, where he opened the curtains covering his small window. A dark, ash-black raven, who had apparently been sitting outside the window studying the curtains, glared at Peter reproachfully at being denied this entertainment.

"It was Narnia," Peter told it, ignoring this glare. "I was dreaming of the White Witch, and she had Lucy in a large iceberg and then this strange girl came and– "

"Peter?" There was a sharp rap on the door and his mother's voice. "Peter, aren't you awake? Time for breakfast!"

"Yeah, okay," Peter called back, already beginning to change. He turned to the raven, but he was gone.

* * *

"You look awful," Said Peter's younger brother, Edmund, by way of morning greeting. He, Lucy and Susan were already gathered at the table, eating.

"Bad dreams," Peter replied, piling bacon onto his plate and attempting to pass Edmund a meaningful look over his mother's shoulder.

"About what?" Lucy asked innocently, having missed the exchange between her brothers. Her dark, shoulder-blade length hair was pulled into two French braids that swung every time she turned her head; the tips of them were watched hungrily by her new kitten, Thorn.

"Hurry up, Peter, or you'll miss the bus!" His mother instructed distractedly, rushing into the next room to grab something.

"It was a dream about Narnia," He said, very quietly, as he sat next to Susan. He opened his mouth to explain but heard his mother rush back into the kitchen. "I'll talk to you later."

They finished their breakfast in a hurried silence, then departed for school, the girls to one and the boys to another.

* * *

"The Water Cycle is fairly basic, not to mention you've been learning about it since your first year of school . . ." Droned the tall and slightly overweight Professor Wilkes, his voice so monotone he sometimes seemed bored while listening to himself.

Peter and his fellow students taking this science course had never found enjoyment in his lessons. Most of them found better uses of their time, such as sleeping on their textbooks or playing tick-tac-toe with their neighbor. Peter had pulled his pile of books toward him, his science one open to the Water Cycle, and was laying on them, his right cheek covering the 'Evaporation' paragraph; he was also hoping that, if he did fall asleep, he would not drool on the left-side diagram.

"Psst," Whispered the short, blonde boy sitting next to him. "Want to have a go?" He pushed a pre-made sheet of tic-tac-toe boxes toward Peter. "I'll be 'O'."

"Sure," Peter muttered back, placing an 'X' in the middle square.

Peter won half of the games they played and they tied a quarter. They were just about to tie another one when the door at the back of the room opened. Visitors to Professor Wilkes' class were so infrequent that everybody, including the students who were asleep moments ago, looked around.

"Uhh . . ." Came a nervous voice from beyond the doorframe. A tall boy with casually messy, chocolate-brown hair, fair skin and near-black eyes walked into the room. "Professor Wilkes? I'm James Brown."

James seemed to have realized that he had caught the attention of the entire class, and paused awkwardly every few steps to look around and occasionally brave a tentative smile. His navy blue sweater and dark, cream-white pants looked uncomfortably stiff and new, as if he hadn't had time to break them in.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Brown. Welcome to our science class. Take a seat over by Mr. Pevensie, if you would please, and open your book to Chapter Three, page 47. Talking will be unnecessary." Professor Wilkes turned back to the blackboard and continued his lesson in the same dry, bored voice and James sank gratefully into the empty seat beside Peter. He opened his book nervously as Peter and his blonde neighbor turned curiously toward the newcomer.

"So, you're new," Peter pointed out unnecessarily. "I mean, uh, where're you from?"

James, looking surprised to find that someone was talking to him, replied, "Uh, outside of London, into the country. We came here for my dad's job."

"So, do you like Finchley?"

"Yeah, I guess it's fine," James shrugged. "My sister is going to that school across the street–"

"Two of my sisters go there!" Peter exclaimed. "What year is she in?"

"Same as me," James replied, looked startled. "We're twins." He looked back down at his book.

Peter nodded vaguely. "Cool." He pulled his books toward him and attempted to resume his nap, but something beyond the window had caught his attention. The lion statues that stood on either side of the wrought-iron gate leading into the school grounds looked, to Peter, anyway, somewhat odd.

Peter sat up, suddenly more awake then he had been all morning. The lion on the left had _turned_ its head so that it was _facing_ him. Peter blinked rapidly as if accusing his eyes of deceiving him, but stopped when he noticed something oddly familiar about the statue.

"Aslan," He said softly.

"Sorry?" James asked, under the impression that Peter was talking to him.

"Oh, uh, nothing. That statue just looked a little . . ." Peter paused, searching desperately for a good lie. "Uh, _odd_." He finished, somewhat lamely.

"It looked like that when I came in half an hour ago," James said with interest. Peter assumed that both the statues looked the same to him, as they did with everybody who did not know about Narnia. The only other people who could see signs sent to them were Jill and Eustace, who were not in Finchley.

"Oh, maybe I was imagining it," Peter muttered, looking around at James.

"Oh, no," He said eagerly. "I think it looks strange, too. It's head is turned and it's a bit bigger than the other one and his mane looks much smoother, not all rough like the one on the right."

Peter stared at him. "What?" He gasped, his mouth falling into a very unbecoming gape.

James looked a bit unnerved. "Well, uh, has it always been like that?"

Peter, thinking quickly, nodded. "Always," He repeated, and set his head down onto his books, his heart pounding as quickly as if he had been running for miles. He stole a sideways glance out the window and saw – if it was at all possible– the statue tip its head very slightly, as if nodding toward Peter.

"_Not impossible,"_ He thought he heard it– in the voice of Aslan– say, very faintly. It was so quiet that he thought it could have been the breeze on the glass.

_Yes, impossible,_ he thought in response. He avoided looked anywhere except the pages of his science book beneath his face until the bell rang. As he, along with everybody else, rushed towards lunch, he stole another look out the window and, to his immense relief, saw that both the statues were facing the street, their backs to the school as usual.

Peter raced across the street, only pausing to dump his books into his bag on his way, bursting out of the large double doors before nearly everybody else. It had, as the grey clouds had promised in the morning, begun to rain in a steady, misting drizzle that was so fine it soaked easily into the fibers of his sweater before he had even crossed the street. He leaned against the outside wall of his sister's school, attempting to calm himself and look casual while tapping his foot impatiently.

Finally, Lucy and Susan came out the front door, their jackets tight around them, their red hats pulled low across their dark hair.

"Peter!" Lucy exclaimed, running up to her brother and hugging him around his middle. "Guess what! Susan and I were walking into school this morning and we saw _him_! We saw _Aslan_!"

"Shhh!" Susan hissed at her sister. "Don't go shouting it around! We don't want people thinking we're crazy." She glared at a group of teenagers who were passing, staring openly at the trio. "Were's Ed?"

"Dunno," Peter replied. He lowered his voice. "I saw him too! He was one of the statues outside of my school–"

"And he looked at me and said '_Not impossible'." _Edmund finished for him, coming to stand next to them, holding his lunch in a brown paper sack.

"Yeah," Peter said, not bothering to hide his surprise. "But this new boy, James Brown, saw him too."

"Him?" Susan asked, pointing over Peter's shoulder. James had just crossed the street and was standing awkwardly outside of the school, rain dripping from his brown hair. "We saw him come in with his sister Wilma. She's in my music class."

As if waiting for these words to be spoken, although there was no way she could have heard him, the door next to them opened and a tall girl with short, bright red hair called, "James! Hey, James!"

James came to stand by her. Although their hair was nothing alike, they had the same casually messy look, fair skin and near-black eyes. Wilma, in Peter's opinion, was very pretty.

"Uh, hi, Peter," James said, looking fixedly at the puddle at his feet as if he was embarrassed for interrupting their conversation.

"Oh, Susan, is this your brother?" Wilma demanded, looking at Peter with her large dark eyes that were brimming with laughter. "I'm Will. _Not_ Wilma, that name is awful, just Will." She spoke quickly and was grinning broadly at all of them.

"Hi," Was all Peter could manage. Edmund copied him. Silence fell over the six standing in the rain. Peter felt that it would be unwise to carry on their conversation in front of James and Will, because talking about lions appearing in front of them would, as Susan had mention earlier, make them sound crazy.

"Peter!" Lucy shrieked suddenly, grabbing his hand impossibly tightly for a girl her age. "Look!"

He was wrenched from his stupor of looking at the ground, and followed Lucy's finger as she pointed to what appeared to be the middle of the street. There, floating a few inches above the ground, life-size and relatively human, was a tall woman made of what appeared to be rain.

"A water fay!" Susan gasped.

The fay, disregarding the car that had just passed through her, opened her mouth and said, in a light, sing-song sort of voice that did not fit the serious tone she was speaking in, "The time has come, Kings and Queens. You must return to Narnia."

She vanished, but they hardly noticed. There was a mighty roar, like the one of a lion, and they grabbed hands. But, before they could make another move, there was a shriek and someone's hand clasped onto Peter's. He tried desperately to shake it off, but it was clamped so tightly it seemed like it was glued.

Darkness fell, and through the noise that suddenly surrounded them he heard cries of pain and desperate yells coming from the person next to him.

With a sudden, horrible jolt in his stomach, Peter realized who must have grabbed his hand. _Will_.

**A/N Ugh, first chapters are sooo boring! I'm sorry! But it's getting more interesting as I'm planning it in my mind. Stay tuned! (And please review)**


	2. Chapter Two: The Lodge and its Keeper

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia, nor am I in any way affiliated with Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy, Will (Even though she's my own character) or anyone else who may slip unnoticed into the pages of my stories.**

**A/N The first couple of paragraphs may be a little confusing, but at least they're short-lived. Please review! Tell me what you like and what I should change and what you think should happen! **

**Chapter Two: The Lodge and its Keeper**

Hands clasped tightly, the Pevensies and Will fell though the blackness of space and time, Will still screaming in what Peter assumed was pain, although he could not imagine why.

With a sudden burst of mid-day light, a _whoosh_ of air and a gasp of delight from Lucy, the five of them fell rapidly towards a sunny lawn below them, their hands slipping as the wind rushed up to slap against their faces and chests. They stopped, caught by a pocked of cushioned air, just a foot above the ground, before it released them and they fell unceremoniously onto the grass.

Peter rolled over and sat up, blinking against the harsh sunlight to see Will next to him.

He gave a yell of mortified surprise. She was laying on her side, her knees pulled almost to her chest, her light skin sheet-white. Sweat polled in her hair and down her neck, gleaming in the sunlight. Her side, chest, hip and left arm were covered in dark red blood. It gushed freely from a wound in her side, where the deep red stains were darkest, and her shirt had a horizontal tear reaching from her navel to above her hip.

"Wh-what happened?" Lucy cried in a scared voice, her hands quivering and her face pale. Susan had dropped to her knees beside Will and was pushing her onto her back. Will seemed not to notice or care; her dark eyes were rolling backward and she seemed like she was hovering somewhere between consciousness and passing out.

"Peter, do something!" Susan snapped.

"What?"

"Give me your sweater!" Peter ripped his school jacket off and threw it to Susan, who wrapped it around Will's waist like a large woolen bandage. Within moments it was soaked in blood.

"I'm going to get help!" Lucy said desperately in the same scared voice, and ran off behind Peter. He had not realized that they had landed on the grounds of what appeared to be a large wooden lodge, its windows dark, its gardens overgrown and vines covering its walls. It was not visible from above because of the lush, leafy trees standing right next to it, which explained why he had only just noticed it.

"Edmund, go look for help over there," Susan instructed, jerking her head in the direction opposite of where Lucy had gone. "And Peter, do something besides just standing there!"

"What?" Peter repeated, feeling hopelessly lost. "There's nothing we can do! Will's going to–"

He was cut off by Will as she started screaming again. From beneath her half-closed eyelids tears of pain began streaming out, mingling with sweat and a few drops of rain left from Finchley.

A door slammed behind them and Lucy ran back, fresh tears springing into her clear blue eyes. "It's abandoned!" She sank to the ground and began to sob uncontrollably. "Everybody's gone!"

"Not quite," Said a new voice from the shadows. From behind the lodge came a sleek-coated Beaver. "There's still a few of us left."

"Mr. Beaver!" Lucy shrieked, standing up and mopping her eyes on the sleeve of her school uniform.

The Beaver, looking perplexed, waddled into the sunlight and held a furry paw out to Lucy. "It's Grilmaud, actually. Pleased to meet– oh, no," He had caught sight of Will and bent closer to look at her. "This is awful! Mickswald!" He yelled suddenly, looking towards the back of the lodge. A round pair of beetle-black eyes set in the dark, furry face of a mole appeared peering cautiously around the corner. "Mick! Go get the Keeper! Tell him there's a girl here who's badly injured!"

"Girl 'urt, get Keeper," The mole repeated in a thick, gruff voice, and he hurried away.

"What happened?" Grilmaud asked, looking around at Peter, Susan, and Lucy.

"Dunno. We'd like to know that, too," Edmund replied, walking towards them and panting slightly.

"Well it– look! Here's Mick and the Keeper!"

The mole was hurrying toward them, followed by a middle-age stallion centaur. His short, light brown hair was streaked with grey, as was his stubbly beard. He was wearing a loose white shirt, which fell to his waist, where he became a light dapple-grey stallion.

"'Ere, sir," Mick grunted, pointing to Will. "Said she's 'urt bad."

The centaur walked carefully through the group of kids, steping lightly and keeping his dark grey eyes on Will. Susan backed away, watching with bated breath as he leaned down and picked her up. "This would is bad and will be fatal if we do not treat it," He said in a low, serious voice. "Mickswald, go get Captain and Sybryth. Bring them to the hospital room." Still holding Will easily in his arms, he walked into the front room of the lodge. Even half-dark in the shadows of the trees, it looked welcoming and comfortable, despite the thick layer of dust over everything. Several large, cozy-looking armchairs were circled around a threadbare hearth rug and large stone fireplace made from smooth grey rocks. They walked quickly out of the front room and into a short hallway with a dark wooden floor; Peter could see across the corridor small scuff marks in the dust, obviously from Lucy as she had run through the lodge minutes before. At the end of the hall there was a wide wooden staircase leading to the top level of the lodge.

"In here," Grilmaud said, holding open the last door in front of the stairs. The group entered into a wide, brightly lit and extremely clean room. The walls were painted gold and several large windows faced out from the back, showing a thick, green forest and a clear, bubbling creek that ran into the distance. Lanterns hung from the walls, lit with flickering orange flames. Three people were already in the room; A young, tall woman with dark skin and black hair, a slim silver otter and Mick.

"Allenstone!" The woman exclaimed, upon seeing the centaur. She stood from where she was sitting on the edge of a white hospital bed and ran over to them, looking at Will with a frightened expression. "Put her down here, and go get me my potions!" She motioned towards the first in a series of five or six white beds.

"Sybryth, be careful," Allenstone warned, setting Will down and turning back towards the door. "We do not know what wounded her." He left and they heard him gallop back down the hall.

The woman Sybryth turned Will over and removed Peter's ruined jacket. "Captain!" She barked at the otter, who apparently had been having a conversation with Mick. "Go get me bandages. And you," She jerked a random finger behind her, which landed on Edmund. "Go help her."

He followed Captain to the back of the room, where a row of wooden cabinets sat beneath a long marble counter. The otter opened one of them and began piling rolls of bandages, three large jars of dark green paste and a wooden bowl and rag into Edmund's arms.

Allenstone cantered back in, holding several oddly shaped glass bottles full of brightly colored liquids, and began setting them down on the table at the foot of Will's bed. They all watched curiously as Sybryth took a bottle hardly bigger than her thumb and poured three drops of clear liquid into Will's half-open mouth. A moment later, a puff of what appeared to be red and purple smoke came from her mouth and hung in a hazy orb for a moment several inches above her face, before the purple seemed from it and the red slowly faded to black.

"Yes, I thought so. Interesting, anyway," The woman muttered. In a louder voice she added, still not taking her eyes off the black smoke, "You can go now."

"Will's going to be okay, right?" Susan demanded anxiously, for at least the third time in the fifteen minutes they had been sitting outside.

"I don't know," Grilmaud replied wearily. They were sitting in the shady southern side of the lawn, sub-consciously picking at the grass, biting their nails or else staring around aimlessly. "Sybryth is the best healer we have, but what she needs is a miracle potion or an all-healing cordial–"

"Lucy!" Edmund said, so suddenly that they all jumped and stared at him, annoyed. He did not seem to mind and continued, "Your juice of the fire-flowers that Father Christmas gave you!"

Lucy's face, which had lit up with hope as Edmund had said this, fell. "It's at Cair Paravel, Ed. And I don't know if we're even in Narnia."

Grilmaud, seeming unsure wether to scoff or look affronted, gave a rather undignified snort and said, "Of course you're in Narnia, dear girl. This is the Lodge of the West Woods Travelers and Needy Passerby. The LWWTNP, for short."

"Short?" Edmund scoffed. "It's–"

He was interrupted by Susan, who leaned anxiously to Grilmaud and said, "The West Woods? That's _days_ away from Cair Paravel! There's no way we can get that fire-flower juice before Will dies!"

Captain, the sleek she-otter who had been napping in the shade a few paces away, perked up at this. "Cair Paravel, did you say?" She asked in a light, cheery voice. "Good ladies and boys– you aren't– are you . . . The Kings and Queens of Narnia?"

Before they could answer, or even nod, Grilmaud said, looking awestruck, "Why . . . of course you are! I can't believe I never made the connection! Nobody has ever fallen from the sky before– except, of course, Mick when he fell off the roof, but that doesn't– I just _don't_ believe it! Wait 'till I tell the wife!" And he scurried away, calling over his shoulder, "I bet my tail she won't believe it!"

"He reminds me so much of Mr. Beaver," Lucy said affectionately, watching him waddle behind the house. She turned to Captain. "I've never met an otter before, though. Where're you from?"

"Well," Captain began eagerly, also looking at the Pevensies with awe in her deep brown eyes. "There aren't many big rivers or lakes in Narnia, so we otters tend to stick to the East, by the sea," She explained. "And I'm assuming you're talking about the Beavers who helped you the first time you came here? Well, seeing as we're as North as you can get in the West Woods, their dam isn't far, only a few miles to the South-East. So yeah, I'd say Grilmaud's probably related to them. All the Beavers here-about are."

"If you are the four Kings and Queens," Said the slow, serious voice of Allenstone behind them. "Then who is the injured girl? Who is the fifth?"

**A/N Yup, I know, not exactly a cliff-hanger. In the next chapter, you get to find out if Will lives or dies-- in the meantime, please review!**


	3. Chapter Three: Things Unexplained

**Discalimer: Narnia ithin't mine, and neither ith Thaturn Company. The only thing that ith mine is the plot for Thanctuary.**

**A/N Sorry it took so long to upload! In July we weren't home for more than two days at a time the whole month! It was crzy. Anyway, here it is, and (part) of the plot is revealed! Finally, I know. Please review, and tell me what you think!**

**Chapter Three: Things Unexplained**

Will moaned softly, twisting onto her non-injured side, her bright red hair flickering with shadows from the single lit lamp in the dark, quiet hospital room. Peter was sitting in the armchair next to her bed, his head rolling from his chest to the back of the chair as he dozed, snoring quietly.

"Peter?" Came a timid voice next to him. He awoke with a start, looking around guiltily and realizing that Lucy was standing next to him, wearing a spar, light-blue dressing gown of Sybryth's that was far too large for her.

"Lu!" He said in surprise, yawning widely. "It's the m-m-middle of the night! You shouldn't be up. What's the matter?" He added, seeing her tortured face. Before she could answer, Edmund and Susan entered, Edmund wearing a loose pair of pajamas, Susan a violet nightgown.

"We couldn't sleep," Edmund explained.

* * *

The four had been given rooms in the upstairs of the Lodge, which the entirety of was much cleaner thanks to their hard scrubbing. Allenstone had explained that they had not had any guests in several years, and they made themselves scarce anytime suspicious strangers arrived.

"Why?" Lucy had asked Grilmaud.

"Oh, uh, no reason in particular," The beaver had replied, but the kids had all agreed that he had not met Lucy's eyes when he said it.

They, the four kids, Sybryth, Captain, Grilmaud and Blue Flower, his wife, had been taking turns sitting the hospital room throughout the afternoon, watching Sybryth mixing and then giving Will a series of violent orange, slightly smoking potions, or else talking quietly among themselves.

"It's funny," Edmund said in a low voice as they watched the sun set at the foot of Will's bed.

Susan, who had been engrossed in a large book entitled _A History of Languages in Narnia_, which she had found in the front room, looked up. "What's funny? I've never been in a less humorous situation."

Edmund looked annoyed. "Fine, not funny. _Strange_. We landed here and we don't know why, and she–" He gestured at Will, "Is practically dying in front of us, no one's told us what's going on and what's happening in Narnia and we're being held here in this abandoned Lodge with a centaur and a witch!" He voice had gotten louder and faster as he spoke.

This statement was followed by a long silence, broken only by the quiet turning of pages as Susan flipped through her book without even looking at it.

"Ed," Peter said after awhile. "We're not being _held_ here. I'm sure we could leave anytime."

"We can't" Edmund replied quickly. "We can't just leave Will, can we? And where would we go? Cair Paravel? We can't get there from here by walking."

His brother shrugged. "Why don't we talk to Allenstone? We just jump to conclusions when we don't have any explanations."

So they agreed to talk to Allenstone the next chance they got.

"And," Lucy added. "Sybryth isn't a bad witch, just because she can do a couple of cleaning spells. She's very nice, and she's helping Will."

Edmund retreated into a surly silence as the others murmured agreement, and no one said anything else until Blue Flower came in and, in an awed voice, told them to come to dinner in the Lodge's kitchen.

Allenstone wasn't there when they entered the highly polished kitchen that was alive with the warm scent of beef stew and fresh bread. Mick, who now had a pair of wire-framed reading glasses perched on his bald snout, Sybryth, Captain, Grilmaud and another dark skinned, dark haired girl that appeared to he Sybryth's sister, were already gathered around a gleaming wooden table, steaming bowls in front of them and five empty chairs gathered snugly around the table's other side.

Syrbyth introduced her younger sister with the braided hair as Jinnytha, who was the same age as Edmund and who used to work at the lodge before the visitor's stopped coming.

"Why did people stop coming?" Edmund demanded immediately, a warm roll soaked in stew frozen halfway to his mouth. "What's going on here, in Narnia?"

Sybryth and Jinnytha shifted uncomfortably, and Blue Flower exchanged a dark look with Grilmaud. "Well,"Jinnytha began, choosing to stare at the bottom of her empty bowl rather than the Kings and Queens. "As for the Lodge, I suppose the West Woods simply aren't the attraction they used to be. And in Narnia-" She paused and Peter though he saw Sybryth step on her foot. "Nothing's changed, I'm sure."

"What about–" Peter began, but he was cut off by Blue Flower.

"Dessert anyone?" She said loudly, gathering the empty bowls from the table. Peter tried not to glare at her, but he was annoyed at have been interrupted when he tried to ask about the suspicious strangers Allenstone had mentioned earlier. A plate of hot raspberry tart was placed in front of him, but the suspicious behavior of their hosts had made him loose his appetite. Susan, Edmund and Lucy weren't eating, either, although Edmund was eying his hungrily.

"We've had a long day," Susan said gently. "Perhaps we should be going?"

"Going?" Grilmaud asked, before realization dawned in his eyes. "Oh, nonsense, Majesty. You four will be given rooms here, of course. It's not like you're stealing business from us." He gave a nervous chuckle. "No. Come. I'll show you to your rooms."

With a last slightly longing look at his uneaten tart, Edmund followed the rest of the children as they stood and followed the beaver out the back door of the kitchen and into the hallway with the dark wooden floors. The stairs creaked as they walked up them and found themselves in a long, dim hallway lined with doors. Grilamud pushed open the nearest one, number thirteen, and lit the lamp near the door before executing a royal bow, bidding them a good night, and waddling back down the newly polished stairs. The four walked into the room. A door was pushed open on the left wall, through which could be seen an adjacent room painted the same shade of forest green and with the same light wooden floor.

The room was small and modest, with two beds clothed in light green on either wall beneath the small window and a writing desk pushed between them. The beds faced a medium-sized wardrobe, which took up almost the rest of the room, giving it a cozy feeling.

Susan crossed the room in only a few strides and sat on one of the beds. "They won't answer any of our questions," She said, almost to herself. "They're reluctant to let go of any information. I think we should talk to Allenstone."

Peter nodded, although the tall centaur intimidated him more than he admitted. "He wasn't at dinner and he did said nobody should leave the hospital when Will's there, so that's where he must be."

"Yes, so let's just go wondering around this creepy old place in the middle of the night behind everybody's back," Edmund said sarcastically.

Susan looked evenly at him, and Peter could tell she also was thinking about his earlier outburst. "No one said we couldn't look for him," She said, with such a voice of finality that nobody disagreed.

They walked out into the hallway and crept down the stairs, looking around guiltily even though no one had forbade them from leaving their room, and did not relax until they had rushed into the hospital room and closed the door behind them.

"Good evening, Majesties," Allenstone said seriously, bowing his head. "What may I help you with?"

"We had a couple of questions . . ." Susan began, but her imperious tone rose into a cry when she saw Will, who had not moved since they left for dinner. Her skin was almost blue-grey and she looked extremely ill.

"You're friend is not doing well," Allenstone said needlessly. " I believe her wound was poisoned by whatever fiend attacked her."

"Is there nothing we can do?" Lucy asked in a small voice.

"It would take a miracle to save her, dear one," The centaur said quietly, sounding so much like Aslan for a moment that Peter was surprised not to see a lion's face on his. "There is only one thing that can help, and it resides far into the icelands above Narnia, in the Convent of the Sacred Soul. It would be foolish an–"

"I will go."

Everyone turned to look at Peter incredulously, as if he had grown a second head. "You can't," Susan said in her most mother-like voice. "Didn't you hear? It's in the Icelands! It would be death–"

"I will not let her die!" He said brazenly, although he had been as surprised as the rest of them when he had offered to go.

"We don't know her," Susan reasoned, laying her hand on his shoulder.

Peter shook it off. "That's no reason to let her die on our watch, is it?"

"I don't think that's what Susan was say–" Lucy offered, but her small voice was lost as Edmund joined the argument.

"There must be some other way," Susan was saying.

"No! There's not!" Peter said hotly.

"It doesn't matter to you whose dying, does it Peter?" Edmund snapped. "You just want to play the hero again, so people will recognize you as their great Kin–"

"Shut up!" Peter yelled. "We have nothing to be arguing about! I'm going to try to save her, and I don't care if you are coming with me!"

"But you know we will, because that's what we do!" Edmund voiced loudly, nearly yelling. "You know you can manipulate us to follow you, like you do every time, wether we really want to or not!"

"So you're blaming me for everything you've done?"

"No! I'm not blaming anybody! I'm just saying that maybe you should listen to us before you do something rash this time!"

"What do you mean this time?" Peter asked, his voice dropping.

"Remember our attack on the Telmaranian Fortress? That's what I mean about rash!"

"You were in on that too!" Peter replied, his voice raised again. "It was just as much as your fault as mine–"

"Was not! You had the–"

"Edmund, Peter, stop it, both of you!" Susan pleaded, her voice sharp. "You're making fools of yourselves when we should be talking reasonably about this. Edmund glared at her, but neither said anything else.

"Queen Susan is right," Allenstone said, and Peter felt a small flush of embarrassment when he realized the centaur had watch the entire argument. "I will not make this decision for you, but I will say this: The road into the Icelands is dangerous, but not nearly as dangerous as the Icelands themselves. However, what the Sisters at the Convent can do is our only hope of saving this Wilma Brown. You told me you only met her a matter of hours ago; But I feel that perhaps she has a part to play yet. The choice is yours, and you will be thought not more or less of by us if you choose to go or stay. I bid you goodnight." He bowed his head and walked slowly from the room.

"I say we go," Edmund said suddenly after a moment of silence.

"But–" Peter began.

"Me too," Susan agreed.

"But you were both just against it!" Peter said, shaking his head in confusion.

"And now we're not," Edmund explained. "You were right, you know. Just because we don't know her doesn't mean we should let her die."

"I'm coming too," Lucy said.

"No." The answer came from all three of her siblings.

"Yes," She glared at them with defiance beyond her years shining from her light blue eyes. "Unless you're forgetting who helped Aslan _really_ fight the Telmarians, or who found Narnia in the first place, or who–"

"Okay," Peter said. Susan looked at him. "I think we should let you come. Besides, we shouldn't be separate so early in our- mission. Or, whatever we're doing here." He looked at Susan and Edmund, who both nodded. "We'll tell Allenstone in the morning. Right now, I think we should get some sleep." Having finally found a plan, a wave of exhaustion swept over him. He collapsed into the chair beside Will's bed. "I'll be up in a minute."

* * *

Peter yawned again. Just thinking about the events of the day made him tired. The rest of the lamps in the hospital room had gone out, leaving just the single one flickering, reflecting in Lucy's eyes.

"We were talking," Susan said, pulling up another chair and sitting beside Peter.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Lucy asked, sitting on her lap.

Peter thought about it briefly. "Yes," He said finally. Nobody looked reassured, so he added, "C'mon. We're the Kings and Queens of Narnia. What could go wrong?"

**A/N Famous last words, right? Please review and tell me what you think! Do you think I should write a chapter from Will's point of view? Give me your opinion! I think it would help everyone understand her better, but I dunno.**


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